Lovely Weather
by XxHot92xX
Summary: [AU] Still untouchable. [KakaSaku friendship] [Now a multichapter fic]
1. Broken Promises

_Lovely Weather_

oOo

He promised himself that it wouldn't come to this. He swore on his father's bloodied katana that this would never have to happen. He could feel his hands begin to shake as his mind caught up to the severity of the situation. Never before had he been reduced to trembling in the face of his line of duty. The sensation was new and unwanted. It made him feel weak and vulnerable (which he probably was at the moment). Why it had come to this, he'd never know. He tried to retrace his steps and decisions, tried to unravel his mistakes that led to this inevitable situation. No matter how much he berated and swore at himself, he couldn't change the plain facts: he had promised it wouldn't come to this...

And here he was.

And there _she _was beside him.

The gun in his hands felt heavier than when he picked it up this morning. The cool weapon seemed to suck out his life force and morals. This was madness. He couldn't do it. He _wouldn't_. He promised that he wouldn't. No, he wouldn't let her get hurt. It was too late for that now, though. Everything he swore by had fell away, piece by piece. He should've seen this scenario coming, but had been pitifully blind-sided.

"Kakashi-sensei."

He needed to control his quivering hands, lest the gun goes off. He knew that he had to keep his eye on the enemy, but couldn't help to swivel his good one towards her. Her emerald eyes were wavering with condensed fear, but her young face didn't reflect what she really felt at the moment. He didn't want to answer her, but felt compelled to comply, "Sakura."

The gun looked out of place in the roseate-haired soldier's hands. It wasn't supposed to be there and Kakashi had to fight the sudden urge to rip it away from her.

Her young eyes fluttered to the ground by her boots before returning to his lone, grey eye, "Do you think this is it?"

_Not for you. Please God, not for you. _

It was his fault in a sense. He was the one who had taught her two years ago, the one who trained her how to hold that weapon correctly. When she tapped into her latent ability for medicine, his mind had been so sure that she would've stayed back home. He was such an idiot to underestimate her drive. He had seen the glint of _want_ in her eye as she tended his battle wounds back at the camp. And now, here she was, silently reverberating her last prayers that were supposed to be his alone.

He could hear gunfire being spewed out in the distance with his trained ear, and he knew she was expecting him to answer. Willingly or not. She was going to be the death of him, not this war.

As he gazed into those emerald irises that were just too naive to be out on the battlefield, he wanted to lie so bad. He wanted to fib and say it was going to be alright. That they were going home soon, back to Konoha. They were going to be having ramen together soon enough and she was going to scream out her lungs that he was tardy once again.

But as he saw her fingers curl tightly around the gun in anticipation and her eyes searching his own for answers, he found himself spitting out the truth. He couldn't lie. Not this time.

"Most likely."

Sakura nodded her head in understanding, seeming to take the morose news well. Kakashi, on the other hand, was trying to keep it together. It was all his fault. If he had only tried harder to rebut her request to join him on the front lines. What the hell had he been thinking? He only had one ticket to hell, and she wasn't joining him. As the air around them became thick with gunpowder, Kakashi realized what had made him agree.

He thought he could protect her.

He thought that she would back down once the first shots rang out.

Oh, how wrong he had been. Despite what his records back home said, he wasn't immortal. He couldn't even protect himself most of the time, let alone another life. The whole situation was completely fucked up and Kakashi could only point the accusing finger at himself.

"Hinata's having the baby any day now. Naruto is gonna be a great father. I just wish I would be able to see if he has blue eyes or pearl."

Kakashi felt his throat become dry and swell up.

"I was supposed to be the maid of honor for Ino's wedding. Heh, she's gonna kill me."

Kakashi tried to stop his lip from trembling beneath his mask.

"And Lee. Damn, I promised him a date."

Kakashi bit his lip as the foreign sensations of tears pricked his eyes. At the same time, a chuckle rumbled in his throat. He felt awful for laughing at such a time as this, but what else could he do?

"I still owe Genma forty bucks from the bar."

Sakura snorted, her emerald eyes becoming brighter, "That's nothing. Ino's gonna throw a shitfit and I don't know if Shika will be able to reign her in without my help."

Kakashi could hear the enemy getting closer, their own comrades leading the soldiers right to them as planned. It wouldn't be long now.

"Now I won't be able to wear that dress."

"Don't feel bad. I forgot to buy Asuma a birthday present."

Closer, still. It seemed as if their comrades had sprung on an attack, the sounds of mortal wounds thrashing and screams of men emanating not too far away. Sakura shuddered briefly and Kakashi felt the need to put an arm around her shoulders. But alas, the gun was just too heavy to hold with one hand.

Sakura bit her lip and said softly, "I wish I could've found love. Maybe that's why I'm here."

Kakashi felt his heart squeeze. He, once again, felt compelled to provide his own regrets, "I wish I could've been afraid of death. It would've saved me a lot of trouble."

Sakura only nodded, somehow understanding his statement more than she was expected to. Kakashi felt his fingers twitch as the enemy drew nearer. Was it too late to tell her to run? It didn't matter anyway. She wouldn't have listen to him. She never had before. He smiled at this.

Sakura seemed to sense that the enemy was coming as well as she slightly turned her head towards her sensei, eyeing his silver locks and his eyepatch. Despite knowing that he couldn't stop the bad guys this time, he still seemed like a god to her. Something that couldn't be touched.

And now it was time. It was too early for him. He wanted to stall just a little bit longer, but once the adrenaline started pumping, there was no way around the inevitable. Kakashi turned his head towards Sakura and marveled at her pink tresses and studied the green orbs that were already eyeing him. It was still his fault, but at least she'd have company.

Kakashi, despite his gun's weight, reached out to ruffle her locks one last time, "See you on the other side, ne?"

Sakura smiled, "Try and keep up, ojiisan."

Shots fired.

Blood spilled.

Tears fell.

Hearts broke.

Apologies sent.

Forgiveness.

_Still untouchable. _

_Still beautiful._

oOo

_A/N_: Whoa. What the hell was that? I'm not quite sure myself. It seems I've been spitting out oneshots left and right but they are just so tempting to write. So, now, instead of being ninjas, they're soldiers. Tch, I have a lot of free time...

And I am quite evil, I know.

Thanks for reading and please review!

_- - H. 92_


	2. Beginnings

"_I never joined the army for patriotic reasons." _

– _Isaac Rosenberg _

oOo

The tanged smell of metallic ink suffocated the small vicinity, making his head pound unmercifully. The bright, florescent lights above made his eyes blear and sting, but he was in no position to complain. The foul odor of burning flesh invaded his nasal passageways and he gripped the arms of the chair to keep the persistent bile from his throat. Sweat beads rolled down his temples and his gradual, measured breaths began to huff out in quick pants. This wasn't on his 'to-do' list and it seemed the other man beside him did not care in the least, only offering occasional smirks at his poorly hidden grimaces.

"Holding up okay?"

The insincere words only briefly reach his ears and only mildly translate and connect within his brain. The buzzing upon his flesh was the main focus in the moment, but no matter what the sardonic words were, he offered his own comments.

"Damn you, Ibiki."

He never hears the good-naturedly chuckle as his teeth grind themselves to gravel. He's pretty sure that his knuckles are bone-white from his tenacious grip upon the chair. He briefly and absently notes that what was to be a bravado remark to the man beside him was, in reality, a whispered growl.

He fervently hoped that Genma wouldn't hear about this incident. He already had pounds of tantalizing blackmail against him and the senbon-sucker would be all too happy to add this experience to his growing list.

The bright, sharp light won the reluctant battle as he squeezed his only viewable eye shut, the acidic smell of flesh and ink making him try to conceal a gag. He hadn't been briefed that this was a _requirement_, that no other option was available. A small part of his mind doubted this fact and believed that his higher ranks wanted to see him squirm. As they led him down the dark, claustrophobic corridor, he had felt his sixth sense tingling profusely, trying urgently to inform him that what lay beyond the gray, steel door was a wallop of torture.

"Almost done, Hatake."

Kakashi tried to ground out another curse, but knew his attempts were fruitless as the buzzing was drowning his eardrums in an everlasting symphony. His mouth was dry and his silver mane was becoming plastered with sweat. Kakashi prayed that Ibiki would know to keep his mouth shut and never speak a word of this. Despite all the grueling tests and mental exams that had been all-too-happily shoved his way, _this_ was just pure masochistic agony. Kakashi was pretty sure that his left biceps were having its skin ripped off, then the pink muscles shaven until all that was left was slathered blood and shredded veins. It was a, perhaps, _embellished_ description of the pain that echoed in his upper left arm, but in Kakashi's questionable stability of mind, it was the exact happenings.

Between the odor of ink and copper, a hazy scent that was damp and had a deathly choke hold was bearing down on his senses. How long had it been since he had stepped foot into this room? Five minutes? Five hours? Kakashi bit down upon the inside of his cheek as a fiery sensation flickered in a too-sensitive area on his biceps. Metallic liquid graced his awaiting tongue, making him want to gag even more, but Kakashi merely gulped down the intruding substance. He knew that this procedure normally didn't take _this_ long to complete. He'd seen guys come in and out in a lapse of fourteen minutes. It was probably all another test, another unruly judging to see if was really qualified for this. Kakashi thought he was perfectly qualified. Anyone who wanted to enter in had to be at least partly insane. He had been told once or twice that he was, particularly, a 'whack-job'.

All at once, like a blessing from Kami above, the incessant buzzing ceased. An unsteady silence drifted in and wavered in the air that was suddenly too still for his liking. Taking a chance, Kakashi opened his lone, grey eye and gazed upon Ibiki and tried to hold back a snarl. The scarred man saw his self-control emanating and smiled all-knowingly.

"Did it hurt?"

Kakashi had a very good self-control it seemed since he _didn't_ thrash the man right on the spot, his hands did _not_ clutch at the man's jugular and his mouth was _mostly_ clean of profanities. Kakashi sucked at his inner cheek wound for a moment, trying to divert the pain away from his throbbing left biceps, and dryly quipped, "Only a pinch."

Ibiki laughed gruffly and proceeded to pat Kakashi's arm with a dry paper towel, soaking up any extra ink. Kakashi let his fingers unwrap themselves from the chair's arms and discreetly cracked the stiff joints one-handedly. Ibiki tugged off his latex gloves and looked at Kakashi expectantly. The silver-haired man saw that it was his cue to get up and take his leave, but he was a little unsure of his balance and coordination at the moment.

Shrugging off the disorientation as much as he could, Kakashi stood and took measured, slow steps until he reached the door. Grasping onto the grubby knob as if it were a lifeline, Kakashi quickly turned it and closed the door behind him. Semi-fresh air hit his body and Kakashi breathed it in deeply, despite the navy mask that covered his nose and lower half of his face. It was over. He had passed the final test and the mirror that was set conveniently on the wall across from him displayed what he had to show for it.

An opaque, ebony swirl of ink that vaguely resembled a flame (or was it a leaf) tattooed upon his left biceps. Still slightly wet, the tattoo held a definitive sheen that somehow proclaimed proudly that it was now part of Kakashi's body and mind.

He was absolutely insane for even joining these ranks, but what better than to be among his own crazed kind? Kakashi took one last glance at the new tattoo before ambling down the narrow hallway. It wasn't a game anymore (and honestly, it never really was) and it was time to move on from simple infiltrations, simple lieutenant positions. It was time to join a force that was absolutely, bat-shit crazy because Kakashi had lost his sanity a while back in his preteen years. He had nothing to lose, nothing to hold to his name back at his one-room apartment. All he had were a few coins in his pocket and a couple drinking buddies that were just as looney as he was.

Sure, there was a part of his mind that quietly pondered, _Is this the right decision? Is this really the right move to make? _but it was snuffed out by the larger part of his subconscience that instinctually knew that joining these ranks was a paramount duty to uphold.

Kakashi felt his upper arm throb in tune with his heartbeat.

_Ironic,_ Kakashi mused.

His heart had already been sold. The throbbing of his tattoo was its new owner.

Kakashi held back a wince as a cold, unrelenting ice slathered itself upon his beating organ.

It was the first transition of many to come, the first barrier. His heart was no longer under his command.

ANBU was its new captain.

**13 years later.**

_Damn, it's hot._

As his boots touched upon the dusty, barren ground, his mind fizzled in the extreme heat. His cerulean eyes took in the scenery, which wasn't much in retrospect, and tried to keep his chin high under the scrutinizing glances of future comrades and captains. Their eyes, that were almost as desolate as the land around him, bore into his soul, shredding it apart to see just what were his inner workings. His throat was parched under the glances and stares, saliva had deserted him and he was left with gulping down dry, cracked air. Despite the unfriendly atmosphere, he refused to be overlooked so easily. He refused to be intimidated by the ignorant crowd.

He knew his vibrant, blonde locks would be an extreme offset to the world he was about to enter that was overtaken by black and white. There was no room for grey, never mind blonde. This was just another obstacle to overcome to him, however. His life was practically a battlefield so it was only natural to enter the real thing. He knew that the lieutenant who was looking him up and down was frowning at his eyes. They were blue and bright, full of determination and heart; not about to back down from anything. Out on the front lines, that would never do. Naive, child-like bliss wasn't needed on grounds that were caked with blood and regret. He found himself not really caring about this evident fact, however, and kept his stare steady into the higher ranking man's eyes.

_You don't scare me._

"Uzumaki, bunk C7. Dismissed!"

Naruto nodded politely with a soft "thank-you" (which he swore the scar-faced lieutenant sneered at) and adjusted his pack, heading off to where he had been directed to.

He was seventeen and 'fresh-faced to the world yonder', the elders have always whispered to themselves. He could fool many with his smile and bright outlook on life when life had knocked him down repeatedly. Orphan. High school drop-out. _Murderer._ Naruto shook his head of the growling voice that whispered the damnable label, licking his dry lips from the numerous amounts of sand particles that blew upon it. He knew that it wasn't true. Deep in his perhaps overly-large heart, he knew that no matter what he had to say about the seventeen-year-old matter, people back in Konohagakure would always spit at his feet. Sometimes his face.

The 'matter' was as old as he was and didn't seem to know the word '_leave_'. Naruto tried to convince himself that it wasn't his fault, but with having a rather large percent of people tell him it was, his assurances were hard to believe at times. Maybe the wrongly-placed guilt is what made his grades slip, what made friends leave, what made the army look so endearing. Naruto eyed the rows of bunk cabins that were awaiting his arrival. It wouldn't be like that here. No one knew his name, no one knew his past. He wasn't some dumb kid who flunked home economics. Here, in the dunes of sand, in the essence of war, he was a soldier.

_A handsome soldier at that._

o-o

She didn't dare to breathe in too deeply. The air here was thick with sand and possible regret and forlorn. The sun was high up in the air, but something sent the tiny hairs on the back of her neck to chill and erect. This wasn't what she expected, to say the least. When her emerald eyes first glanced at that poster, it seemed like so much more than just miles of sand and thousands of combat boots slapping it around. She could feel a sheen of moisture present itself upon her upper lip and on the nape of her neck where her low ponytail grazed. The short locks were dampened in the stifling humidity and she knew that definitive sweat marks now adorned her white cotton shirt. The piercing gazes of her commanders weren't helping in the slightest.

Women joining the army was frowned upon. They brought too much hardship for their comrades, such as feminine medical issues and stimulating the opposite sex's hormones. She knew that she'd stand out with her steady hands and rosette locks that glistened in the overbearing sun. Her emerald eyes still held some wonder-like gleam of the world around her and the officer that was evaluating her stance, frowned. She didn't belong here.

But, she wasn't about to be handed a gun. She was there for a greater purpose. Medicine had always attracted her attention and the internship back home opened her eyes at how she could be the deciding factor of whether a patient knocks on Death's door, or plays ding-dong-ditch. Many were surprised to learn that little Sakura wanted to join the forces with the big boys. Her mother wept and her father yelled, but no matter how many times she heard that 'her precious brain was going to waste', her decision was steadfast. It was just something she had to do, had to be a part of.

_I won't be left behind._

The busty, blonde head nurse that had been flipping through Sakura's credentials finally let her eyes meet the seventeen-year-old's jade gaze, "Ms. Haruno, you are to report to the Infirmary on a daily basis for medical training. However, you will be taught the basics of warfare among other things such as weaponry and emergency drills."

Sakura nodded, "Hai, Tsunade-sama."

Tsunade peered up from checking off something on her clipboard and raised a brow at her new intern's unwavering voice. She let a smirk play upon her lips and observed, "You won't break easily," The blonde broke out into a bigger smile when Sakura's chin raised an inch and tried to keep her gaze steady with the older woman, "Good. Hunker down at bunk C7. Beware, however. Co-ed."

Sakura's eyes widened a smidgen, but she quickly recovered, although her heart was still pumping at the idea of _men_ being her roommates (and all the horrid incidents like shower walk-ins coming to mind). Sakura allowed a small, albeit shaky, smile at her new captain before bowing slightly, "Hai, Tsunade-sama."

The roseate-haired young woman took off in the direction she had been shown with a pounding heart and sweaty palms.

She was different. She had always been different. After preteen crushes and teenaged grieving, Sakura seemed to stand out in her classes, in her house and in Konoha in general. She was the brainiac. The nerd. The straight-A student. The study-buddy. The outcast. Sakura had friends, friends that always seemed to invite her over more often when midterms rolled around. Sakura was popular, especially when sensei was prepping for a unit exam. Sakura was pretty, enough so that Sasuke said 'thank-you' when she proclaimed her love towards him. School wasn't always so bad. She had made some actual true-to-heart friends. She had once found true-to-heart love.

But she was different. _This_ was something that she had to do. Sakura knew some people from back home that were also joining the army, but their reasons for why never even touched base with Sakura's own. She couldn't explain it to people like Ino, who were only here because of no college intuition and no other way out. She couldn't even begin to explain it to people like Shikamaru, who knew their life's calling was strategic analysis. Hinata was dragged into the world of guns and death due to family affairs and so was her cousin Neji. Chouji, Kiba, Shino and a lot of others just needed the money and had little to no family ties back home. Sakura was a different case. She had family, she had money, she had a brain.

Sakura spit out some sand and a strand of pink hair that had entered her mouth. Her emerald eyes traveled to the rows of bunk cabins that were lined up, that were waiting for her. This was what she wanted. Right? Her reasons weren't even clear to herself. Sakura was left to wonder and question alone. Was she insane? Delusional? Suicidal?

Sakura tugged at her pack as she made her way to bunk C7. The sun beat down upon her back and settled there like a giant hand urging her forward or maybe pushing her back.

_Why am I here again?_

o-o

"_I hear that his left eye is only a bloody iris. No one knows how it came to be, but legend has it that the enemy can take one look into it and the next thing they know, they're on the ground dead and rotting." _

o-o

"_He's a murderer. Don't you recognize him? That bastard from Konohagakure? Word around here and there is that he was the one who shot the Yondaime. His own damn father. They've got evidence, witnesses, the whole shebang, but that old crock-pot Sandaime still denies any action to commence. Damn bastard got away with it all." _

o-o

"_Whole family wiped out. Sad, ain't it? Brother was connected with the Akatsuki mob and wanted in. 'Did it to prove himself, did it just because he __**could**__. He's on the enemy's side now and that's why the other brother's here. Sole reason. Nothing more, nothing less. He wants that bastard dead." _

o-o

"_She threw everything away. She could've had it all, but now she's stuck here with all these shitheads. If I had to pick between a degree at Yale, or some fancy university like that, or __**here**__, I'd tell this place to kiss my sweet ass. The girl's crazy. It's that simple. Why would you want to be a medic in a place like this? She's not strong enough. Never will be." _

o-o

"_He killed his first victim at age 10." _

o-o

"_She doesn't even know how to hold a gun." _

o-o

"_He's one of those 'avenger' types. They never last long." _

o-o

"_Someone forgot to tell him that emotions are checked at the door." _

o-o

"_She's got a nasty temper. Too bad that 'Uzumaki' fella never got the memo." _

o-o

"_That's why he always keeps that eye covered. He's never shown it to anybody." _

o-o

"_The kid's unstable. I don't trust him one bit." _

o-o

"_Killed his own father right when he stepped into the threshold. Don't fall for that smile. He's a cold-blooded murderer._"

o-o

"_She doesn't belong here. This world will break her. It's just a matter of time." _

o-o

"_They say ANBU actually sought out for him. They only go after those lunatics who'll do infiltrations on enemy borders and shit. Aside from all the rumors, I think he just went in because he was bored." _

o-o

"_He can copy anything. Strategies, documents, body-language, hell - even voices. It takes him only one glance and he's got you all figured out."_

o-o

"_He can't be human. After killing that many people, who could have any ounce of humanity left?"_

oOo

**A/N:** Yup. I've decided to continue Lovely Weather due to one reviewer's request and my own desires. It just didn't seem quite finished and my original intention was for a semi-long story. With chapters. So, voila. The basic idea is that the first chapter was, in retrospect, the last chapter. Now, we're going 'back in time' to see what led to the events that transpired. Follow me?

Basically, for those who are a wee bit confused, **this chapter was a little peek into Kakashi, Sakura and Naruto's decisions to join the army**. Some reasons are plainly written and others are shadowed, but will be explained in due time. Also, some may be wondering why I didn't add Sasuke's personal introspect for arriving in the army like the others, but alas, I don't like Sasuke too much. I kind of explained it in the italic quotations, so yeah.

Sorry for not much Kakashi in this chapter, but I want him to be an enigmatic figure for a while.

Naturally, as most of you hopefully have come to realize, this is an **AU** fic, which means some Naruto plot will be twisted for my own convenience, haha. But really, I need to make it clear that some characters' backgrounds will be changed, but not that much. All original Naruto plot does not belong to me. End of story.

Sorry for the long, rambling author's note once again. I can't keep my mouth shut, it seems. Heh – sweat drops – . Please review and let me know if this is the right direction to go, if I really should continue Lovely Weather or I should just leave it be. I'll admit – I'm a little nervous about continuing, what I considered, a pretty good oneshot.

Thanks for reading.

_- - H. 92_


	3. Tell Me to Scream Calamity

"_The devil is in the details, and everything we do in the military is a detail." _

– _Hyman George Rickover _

oOo

The sensation of dirt between the spaces of his teeth was something he never thought he'd experience. If someone had come up to him and asked quite peculiarly, "Pray tell, what does dirt taste like?", he was undoubtedly positive he'd be able to give a full description – right down to the minerals and earthly creatures that resided in it. No matter how much he sucked at his teeth to rid the brown particles from his mouth, they wouldn't come off. It wasn't helping how the commanding officer was screaming in his right ear to finish those hundred and twenty push-ups or no dinner. Naruto gritted his teeth, cringing at how he could feel the mud grind in the pearly contours, and raised himself to complete the exercises. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sasuke smirk before sauntering away, having already finished the required push-ups, sit-ups and mile run. Naruto forced down the growl that threatened to emanate from his throat and stopped his fist from punching the dirt in childlike defiance.

_Bastard._

Training was tough – tough for all of them. Naruto had to wince and look away while Chouji huffed and puffed down the long track, only on his first out of twenty laps. Shikamaru endured heated lectures for stopping his training completely to stare off into space numerous times, all in which Naruto always hid a laugh behind his dirty hand. In a matter of days, the blonde teenager was thrust into a world where sweat and mud were the daily deodorant. He could feel his muscles quiver and strain while he completed his push-ups, his commanding officer's boot set firmly upon his back. This new life was hard, it was tough, but it was somehow better.

Anything was better than dodging degrading accusations left and right from a matter that was still not settled after 17 years. Each insult, each castigation tore the delicate fibers of his heart apart. Why couldn't they see the truth? It was right there in front of them, in the evidence, in the carefully recorded documents. Did they just not want to accept the cold, unforgiving validity?

_And just what is that truth?_

Naruto felt his hands tug violently at his golden locks, now smeared with brown and black substances, the searing pain in his head seeming to cut his brain in half. He was unaware of how his knees hit the soggy blades of grass, how the commander was hollering across the bleak expanse of _wet_ to _get the fuck up or starve!_ The sick chuckles reverberating behind his forehead drowned out the concerned questions of Lee and the quiet assurances of a general known as Asuma.

His eyes stared blankly at the ground, watching as ashes from the cigarette formed unsymmetrical figures upon the cold grass.

_Pathetic. _

"Shut up," Naruto mumbled, almost a gravelly growl, and the foreign sense of hands seizing his shoulders made him whip his head up as if a bullet had lodged in his spine.

_You are the monster._

Naruto couldn't see, but screamed nonetheless. It was an odious howl as his nails dug deeper into the skin, scarlet stains appearing to be streaking across his temples. Shikamaru's voice, logically pointing out to get him to the infirmary, wafted into his psyche as well as the cold ice of the commander.

"He doesn't need a fucking doctor! 'Just a damn pussy."

"Dammit Lenko, he's just a rookie!" Asuma.

_Kill them, rip them, tear them apart..._

The hands were still bunching its fists into his drab uniform of monochrome green.

Tighter and tighter...

_Let me out._

-o-o-o-o-o-

He did not appreciate the ruckus of the mess hall. The dirty walls and floorboards beckoned him with greasy fingers and Uchiha Sasuke found himself slinking past them silently. Laughter and uproarious chatter pounded at his temples with its brash tendencies – a table filled with his future "comrades" called out cheerfully, one patting an open space with the likeness of a good ole chum.

Sasuke glared.

The table ignored the frothy scowl the dark-haired soldier beared, merely awaiting his answer with hopeful eyes.

The Uchiha scoffed and walked away – he was not here for friends.

The only thing that concerned the stoic teen was driving a katana through his kin's heart – tearing through those fallible fibers and plunging the glinting metal into the life of his brother's eyes, to watch the light slowly fade to grey. His hands clenched at the mere thought. He passed the table.

His goal was a matter of steps he had laid out for himself to follow. Sasuke was an intelligent soul, this knowledge sometimes being mistaken for insanity sadly, and knew that in order for his plan to succeed, he would need to infiltrate from the inside.

Like many from Konoha, he had heard what had transpired a mere seventeen years ago. The scandal, destruction and cover-ups... Sasuke had staked out the National Library of Konohagakure, reading decrepit files yellowed with disuse – the articles that no one had even _thought _to look up.

The tragedy that had unfolded was not a mere accident, a coincidental set of unstoppable events. It was strategically planned – much like his own goals that were becoming manifested through labyrinths of measures.

The articles were not merely for entertainment value. They had provided names. It was ironically so, that name number one and step number one coincided with one another – the first name of many.

Sasuke stopped and looked at the array of wannabe-warriors glancing up at him, almost begging the coal-eyed prodigy to sit with them. His eyes happened to fall upon one young lad by the name of Konohamaru. The exuberant, chocolate irises met his own.

_Sarutobi Konohamaru_ – grandson of name number five and friends with name number one.

_Uzumaki Naruto_.

Connection made.

"Hey, Sasuke! You're going the wrong way! C'mon, there's room."

The young man inwardly sighed loathingly before finally slipping into the proffered seat. Cheers erupted from the table and hearty slaps on his back came from all sorts of directions.

"Haha! 'Knew you'd come around, Uchiha!"

"Yeah, it's nice to see that pole's been lodged out of your ass!"

"Guys, watch! I bet you I can stuff all these fries in my mouth!" Of course, this proud exclamation came from Konohamaru, the almost-inheritance of royalty himself.

_Impertinent fools_.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Sakura wiped the perspiration that stubbornly insisted that fallen strands of her coral tresses must be plastered to her front. She sighed in acute frustration, hands continuing to rub her forehead furiously while balancing the paperwork that laid in her arms.

The young woman was grateful for her previous knowledge in biology, the papers she carried being her "homework" assigned by Tsunade-shishou, all about the intricate, inner workings of the human bloodstream. It was tiring work, and the pre-medic found herself longing to hold that pristine metal in her hands. She wanted to feel the heavy barrel, slide her fingers across the trigger, lean dangerously upon life and death –

"Sakura! Where are my reports?!"

Sakura jumped, a few of her papers falling lopsided on its stack, and quickly placated the irritated head-medic, "Here they are, shishou. My assignment and the copied medical records of every general."

She sat them down on Tsunade's desk, discreetly sliding all the various items – precariously tossed receipts for sake, birth certificates, a crumpled love-letter from a man known as "Bullfrog" and what appeared to be the beginnings of a manuscript – and added absently, "Really, shishou, Asuma-sensei should stop smoking six packs a day. He has more things to worry about than lung cancer..."

Tsunade sighed, a pair of what Sakura decided were _granny_ spectacles perched upon the bridge of her pert nose, "Men are fascinating creatures, Sakura. You can order them to do something a trillion times, scream at them how their habits are detrimental and yet they will merely smile and call you _worrisome_. Despicable."

Sakura decided to keep her insightful opinion that her shishou's statement regarded itself more towards this mysterious "Bullfrog" than her patients, to herself.

Really, they couldn't afford another desk.

The door suddenly sprang open, hitting the wall with such force, the picture frame upon Tsunade's desk rattled. Sakura quickly turned her head towards the entrance, eyes widening at the shaken soldier (another rookie by the name of Lee), how his eyes were gleaming with unpalatable horror.

"We need a medic!"

The honey-haired doctor fluidly leapt from her seat and rushed to the young man's side, following him promptly out the door.

And when the figurative dust settled, Sakura still found herself stuck to her place with shock and perhaps fright as well. Her hands shook, mind conjuring up images dressed in such horrid macabre, that the medic brought a hand up to her mouth to stifle a gasp.

"Sakura get in here!"

Tsunade dragged her from her stupor, letting reality crash around her; its shards pierced Sakura's feet as she ran to the backroom where hospital cots were lined up and waiting with apprehension.

She got as far as the doorway.

"Sakura!" Tsunade's voice was commanding, harsh and unmerciful. It sliced Sakura and stabbed her gut and yet she couldn't seem to take her eyes off the eighteen-year-old teen that lay in the bed.

"Reposing" and "laying" were not the most suitable words, Sakura decided as her emerald irises widened with delayed fear.

Three men, most likely generals, had strapped the boy down – his body jerked and bucked wildly, an inhuman growl snarling through his bloody lips. His hands were balling the sheets up into nothing, eyes squeezed shut as if in dire pain and head thrashing from side to side.

"Sakura, NOW!"

She felt herself shake her head, watching with mouth agape as the burly, muscled men struggled to keep the teen's back from rising off the mattress. No. This was not a disease to be cured, treated...

Tsunade's eyes were flashing with hot fury, "_Dammit! _You'd better get the hell over here if you ever even _consider_ yourself being a full-fledged medic!"

But this wasn't something she could fix with her knowledge of arteries, marrow and digestive tract. This was...insane. Sick.

Madness.

The busty proclaimed head-medic cursed under her breath and then took her lead without the strawberry-haired apprentice by her side. _She couldn't afford to wait._

And Sakura let her go on. The sinking feeling in her chest at being left behind (_again_) was pacified by the wild cerulean irises that snapped open without preamble.

A demonic whisper fluttered past his lips, "_And what will you do when I cannot be held down?_"

His eyes found Sakura's.

"_Soon._"

And then all stopped, chaos dripping from the walls to escape from the cracks within the walls.

Tsunade sighed with an air of exasperation, copper eyes closing.

The syringe placed within the boy's neck drained its violet fluid without sound.

-o-o-

"_His eyes were blood-red, I saw them! It was like a fucking demon looking right through. Scary shit, man. I hope they send his ass out of here and into the asylum..." _

-o-o-

"_She froze up, just like that. I heard Tsunade-sama screaming at her to move, but the little bitch just stood there. I told you; she's not strong enough to make it out here. She might as well go back to the ritzy city she came from. What's gonna happen when a guy comes in with a blown off arm and leg? If she can't handle a soldier gone ape-shit, then what hope is there?" _

-o-o-

"_He had fangs, I swear!" _

-o-o-

"_I don't trust him. The way he just silently stares through you just isn't normal. When the shit hits the fan and he goes rogue, I'll finally get to say 'I told you so'." _

-o-o-

"_She's still crying." _

-o-o-

"_No one's ever seen him. He's always out on the field, doing God knows what... I hear he wears that mask to hide his horrid disfigurement from a infiltration mission gone wrong." _

-o-o-

"_I think he wears it to hide from the world." _

-o-o-

"_I'm scared of him. What if he snaps like that when we're comrades?" _

-o-o-

"_She's already talking about going home. Good riddance I say. Who needs a medic who is frozen by the sight of a man who's lost his mind?" _

-o-o-

"_He's a monster, just like they said." _

-o-o-

"_I heard he's killed over a thousand people. Just with his eye." _

-o-o-

"_His name was Madara."_

oOo

**A/N:** Whoa! I updated!

I got some reviews asking where this story has gone, and I decided it was time to add another chapter. Yes, it's short but I'm trying to ease my way in and provide a background as to the character's motives as well as their personalities. If you have any questions regarding this chapter then just email me or PM me.

The manga may be used as a base for this fic as well (i.e. Madara) so please avert your eyes if you do not wish to be spoiled even in an AU sense.

As you can see, I'm still keeping Kakashi as an elusive character. And what of Naruto? And what is Sasuke planning? Ooh the tension mounts!

Review if you wish!

Until next submission,

_- - H. 92_


	4. Intermission

"_Love is a kind of military service."_

– _Latin Proverb_

:-:

_An Intermission. _

:-:

Kurenai could taste the sour sweat on her lips as she licked them fervently. Her dirty fingers, sticky with mud that oozed beneath her fingernails, curled tightly around the trigger. The woman's knees were buckled in the wet dirt while her helmet continued to slip further down, covering her eyes _from this offense._ Perhaps she should leave it there, she thought caustically, so she would be spared the carnage rippling past the red stained hills. _Just close your eyes and shoot._ His only advice to her.

Kurenai grinded her teeth, enamels gritted with grains of sand – having face-planted into the ground to avoid a barrage of bullets. Dammit, why couldn't she just shoot her damn gun?

Genma was beside her, kneeling with her, and kept making lewd comments under his rushed breath. His eyes were dilated, fear and excitement awash in his caramel irises, and the older soldier dared to smirk as smoke billowed in front of their foxhole, "Damn, sure is a fine day to get the shit beat out of you."

Kurenai only grunted, mind racing with thoughts and images of him – trying desperately to forget the bloodstains that had painted themselves across his abdomen in the infirmary, the way he smiled at her as she was pulled away from him, the way he told her how to fight – _just close your eyes ..._

"Dammit.." Kurenai couldn't feel the nerve endings within her fingers any longer, the digits so taut and strained. Just pull it, she kept berating herself, just pull it and look away. Genma suddenly lowered his gun and slid down the side of the foxhole to sit in the dirt. Kurenai merely glanced at him before returning her eyes to the fog in front of her. She couldn't see anything anyway, so why couldn't she just _shoot?_

"He loved you."

"Shut the hell up, Shiranui." Kurenai bit out. Her heart was bleeding, coating her rib cage in wondrous splashes of mahogany crimson – try as the woman might, she failed to wipe away the image of his shaking hands, how he attempted to grab her own and tell her _everything_.

Genma rested his gun on his knees, "He was getting ready to ask you, you know."

Kurenai feigned ignorance, the falsehood slipping from her lips so much easier to say than _"I know"_. "What the hell are you talking about."

Genma knew he should get up, align his barrel towards flickering shadows ahead and just shoot the hell out of them. He knew he should be watching how the sprays of blood splatted across the dirt, how men's eyes would roll back and a moan escaped their lips – _'meet your Maker'_ ... But here he was, out of snarky comments and left with only the image of Kurenai clasping Asuma's limp hand as if the world were held up by those numb fingertips.

The lieutenant was batshit crazy for placing that gun in her hands after they dragged her away.

"_You got to fight now, Kurenai. Save the tears for later." Her throat was too raw and red and tender to scream out that it was too latelatelate – _

Genma felt his hands clench as he made himself utter softly, "He was planning to do it next week."

She was silent, no longer watching out for guns aimed between her eyes, refusing to let her hands rest. Next week. _That foolish man. _Merely seven days _too late. _

The older of the two ran his scarlet fingers through his hair, grimacing slightly with how stringy and limp it had become. Gunpowder was caked on the inside of his cheek, tongue lured to the acerbic substance because Shiranui had forgotten long ago what anything else had tasted like. There was blood on the back of his teeth as well – the bruise of shrapnel colliding with his upper lip still pulsing. The heartbeat of the beast.

His fingernails were purple from frost and – _dammit_ – he couldn't rip the image of Asuma's glassed gaze staring unto him. Of his chapped lips murmuring something, _something..._

A rumble of bullets shook the foxhole hardily, as if it were all merely a deck of cards – Kurenai the jaundice queen (_who's king had his sword aimed at his temple_); Genma the crippled joker (_who was the forever-scapegoat destined to make her forget_). He could fiddle with masks until the bullet ripped through his cornea, but he slipped that one on tight. For merely her sake because _he has no one back there._ He grinned sardonically.

_Except Hatake, of course._

His finger shook as he traced the barrel of his artillery – what's supposed to _save him_; from perhaps an untimely demise, but Hell's hounds already were licking his ankles with ardor _('master, master')_.

_Does it still count if they're already dead?_

His grin slanted towards a dark-humored smirk. _– And a social retard?_

Genma felt Kurenai shift, legs restless with immobility, snapping him from reverie. Her knees still bore scars of the dirt she was forced to kowtow to – _"get down, get down goddamn it!"_ – and she wondered absently if she should just stand after all.

She turned away from the condensing air that caressed her jugular. Four AM was barreling down upon her shoulders. It's been seven hours.

_He's been gone for seven hours_.

_Fuck – wasn't that damned number supposed to harness luck?_

She could hardly see the hands that were shaking around the trigger of her gun, so she knew that Genma would never see – _see her put this goddamn barrel in her mouth; see her pull the trigger, eyes wide open; see her brains and tissue and red splatter across his cheeks and paint the foxhole wall a wonderful vermillion – _

She just had to closer her eyes and shoot.

It would take seven seconds.

Her lips hugged the barrel tight.

Genma spoke only after three.

"He gave me the ring."

Kurenai's teeth clamped around the metallic mass until her jaw ached and her eyes shut and the tears bled through her ducts.

Genma mumbled low, eyes focused on his frost-bitten fingers, "I hope it fits. 'Cause it'd be a damn shame if it were too small now, ne?"

_What a shame, what a shame – _

– _he was too young.. _

– _he was too strong.._

– _he was too alive.._

_..to die on a misshapen cot with a eulogy. _

Kurenai slowly slips the barrel from her mouth, tempted by only the lingering thought, the minuscule wonder:

_Will it fit?_

Because she could still taste her husband's lips on the trigger.

Because the barrel was too large and cumbersome – and _something_ needed to be perfect.

:-:

**A/N:** Just a brief intermission of sorts. I know I haven't updated in forever, ever, ever – and I am truly sorry about that! Real life, other fandoms and other inspirations got in the way. I sat down today though just to type out the last few paragraphs of this little vignette. It's a little darker and grittier than the previous chapters, I think. Also, I can't help but be ruffled by how one can most likely tell where I left off and where I began after a long while. My writing style has certainly changed from the last time I gazed upon this chapter.

I will update as soon as the Muse fairy strikes again!

Till next time,

_H. 92_


End file.
